


I can't tell the future, but I can tell you this

by 700wordsAmonth



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/700wordsAmonth/pseuds/700wordsAmonth
Summary: Sanvers AU. You meet Alex Danvers when you're still studying to become a detective. It is very clear to you from the start: you are going to marry that girl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this prompt (here: https://westerngayfairytales.tumblr.com/post/157867118845/sanvers-au-in-which) like a month ago and none of you wrote it. You guys suck. So now have my version of my own prompt.
> 
> I'm aware it's not the complete prompt, but the story felt pretty finished to me. I might add the other scenes suggested in the prompt in a second chapter. Let's see what my muse thinks of it.

_July, 2013._

 

The music is loud as you zigzag your way through the moving bodies. One body in particular has caught your attention and, after having two beers and one last shot for courage, you decided that _what the hell_ , if you’re going to party, you might as well go for the hot, hot, _hot_ girl dancing on the table – whoever owned the house, they were in for a very long weekend of cleaning chores.

As you join the crowd watching the Coyote Ugly show the girl is putting on, you notice a blonde shy thing, perhaps too young for this frat party, enjoying the performance. The girl is pretty, for sure, just not your type. Your type is more… You look up, taking in long reddish-brown hair that reflect the laser lights, a big, sinful smile that testifies that, yes, the girl is very aware of the impact she causes, and tight jeans paired up with combat boots. Yea, that is more your speed.

You stop beside the shy girl and lean in to be heard. “Sorry to say, but you got competition.”

The girl seems confused at first, and leans in herself. “I’m sorry?” she says, pointing to her right year.

“I said you got competition,” you point to the girl on the table, “I’m gonna marry that girl.”

That makes the blonde laugh. “Really? Then I guess I should introduce myself,” she offers you her hand, clearly amused, “I’m Kara, _that girl_ ’s sister.”

“Oh,” you smile and shake her hand, “well, Kara, I'm Maggie, it’s great to finally meet you, your sister has told me a lot about you.”

“Has she now?”

“Yep,” You say as you look up again, it seems like the performer isn’t that into her show anymore. “Tell me, sis-in-law, what’s my future wife’s name again?”

As if hearing your conversation, the brunette starts climbing down from her stage. “It’s Alex. My sister’s name is Alex.”

Alex – _Alex_ , you taste the word in your mouth – walks to you holding her hair up from her neck. “Jesus! I swear any day now I’m gonna cut this thing off,” she looks at you and then back to her sister. “Making friends, Kara?”

“Yes. Alex, this is Maggie, I don’t know much about her, but she seems cool, if a little forward.”

“Hey!”

“Forward, huh?” A frown appears on Alex’s forehead, and she maneuvers her body to stand between you and her sister. “You giving my sister trouble?”

You blanch because _no, of course not_ , as Kara laughs, “not like that, Alex.”

The brunette hums, but seems to accept her sister’s word. “All right, who wants to get some water? I need to hydrate.”

 

* * *

 

 “Alex, I’m tired, it’s really hard to focus on the right sounds with all this noise going on. Can we please go home?” Kara almost screams to her sister. And that’s a weird way to put it, you puzzle, but you suppose she’s right, the excessive noise is already starting to get to you too.

Alex throws her arm over her little sister’s shoulder and brings her close to kiss her forehead. “Of course. Just remember: you were the one who wanted to know what the fuss was all about.”

“Well, you gotta try it before you kick it, right?”

Kara turns to you, touching your wrist to catch your attention, even though she already had it. “We’re heading out. Are you gonna stay? Cause we can give you a ride.”

“No, it’s cool, I live nearby. Thanks though. It was nice meeting you guys.”

“You too,” Kara replied, taking a step back to let her sister say goodbye. Even in this heat you can feel yourself blushing as you ask Alex for her number, _to keep in touch, I don’t really know anybody here yet_. You catch Kara’s knowing look as she watches her sister press her number into your phone – you have the feeling Alex hasn’t realized she is being hit on, but you’re sure Kara will fill her in once they’re alone.

 

* * *

 

  _October, 2013._

 

You’ve been hanging out with the Danvers sisters for about three months now. You actually have a few classes with Alex. She’s already well into her Master’s in bioengineer, but she takes some (many, she’s nothing if not an over-achiever) non-compulsory classes, and so you see her twice a week in your forensics class.

Today Kara is burning the midnight oil in the University newspaper, which makes this movie night an evening for you and Alex alone.

You’re watching some trashy romcom so you can allow yourselves not to pay attention to the movie and talk the night away.

“God, that is the worst,” you say as the girl on screen has a fit of jealousy. “Are you the jealous type, Danvers?”

She frowns and answers with her eyes still on the TV, “I wouldn’t know.”

You turn to her, movie forgotten. This is interesting.

“You never dated?”

“I did… Kinda. It just never really lasted that long, I wasn’t into them, there was no point.”

“So you were never with someone you actually liked?”

“I guess, but it’s actually that dating… It’s not really my thing. I never enjoyed it… I mean, there were parts I wasn’t opposed to, but yea, just… Not my thing,” she clears her throat. “And how about you? That friend of yours, James, he said you are the lady whisperer. No new perspectives lately?”

“I wouldn’t say that I have no perspectives, it’s just that I have a specific one. A project, if you will.” You raise your chin, delivering the words as if they concerned far more important issues than your dating status.

“A project?”

“Yes, I’m invested. I’m focusing on the long run.”

“I see,” Alex looks at you with clear fondness, “you’re going to marry me someday, right?” She teases you, bumping her shoulder on yours.

You look at her, affronted. “I can’t believe Kara told you that! How long have you known?”

“She told me the day we met. She’s my sister, what did you think she was going to do?”

“Well, I don’t know, she could have prevented my 3-months long humiliation, though.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a little bit embarrassed.” Alex says with a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

“I’m really not,” you answer, relaxed in the familiar banter. “I did suspect she wasn’t going to keep that to herself for long, but you never said anything,” you sigh as you watch her. Does that mean anything? That she’s known you were into her all this time and still became your friend? Still became close with you? “You know what, Danvers? I have a theory.”

“About?”

“About why you didn’t like doing stuff with the guys you used to hook up with.”

“And what’s your theory?”

“I’d rather not say it, I want to test it first.”

You can see that she suspects where this is going, but she seems curious enough to roll with it. “And how are you going to test it?”

“It’s complicated, but try to keep up. We’d have to sit closer,” you say as you slid closer to her, “and I’d have to play with your hair,” you rest your elbow on the backrest and start threading your fingers through Alex’s hair, first closer to her ear, and then through the strands in the nape of her head as she seems to relax into your touch, leaning against your shoulder.

“And then?”

“Then I kiss you.” You watch her for a response, follow Alex’s eyes as they fall from yours to rest on her lap, a frown between them, notice the pink in her cheeks, the nervous quiver in her voice when she whispers your name – _Maggie…_ –, and maybe it all indicates that Alex is into you and a little flustered, _or_ that Alex is nervous because she has to let a friend down.

 “Danvers... I don’t mean to pressure you into anything. It’s just… I like you. And I don’t feel like you’ve shot me down yet, or maybe you were too gentle about it?” You breathe in and smile through your nerves, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I jus-”

“You don’t,” she says quietly.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, _sometimes_ you do, but it doesn’t bother me, your flirting, I mean.”

And the not so small hope you’ve had for months just grows and grows and grows. “So, what I just did, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“No… Well, it kind of does, but not in a way that makes me want to get away from you.”

You watch her, watch as her brown eyes open themselves so much to you, looking at you for answers – you realize – she doesn’t have. She’s so open with her feelings probably because she doesn’t recognize them, or maybe that’s just how she is. She’s admitting to being flustered around you and to wanting to be around you and she doesn’t even know what that means, and it all just makes you so warm and it makes your heart flutter and _my God,_ you are going to marry this girl one day.

“Would it be okay if I completed the test?” She looks at your lips and back to your eyes and you’re a goner. _Such a goner._ She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t back away from you either, and the way she looks into your eyes seems like such a clear yes that you kiss her anyway.

You try to keep your cool and ease her into the kiss. She’s never liked this before, you can’t scare her away by doing too much too soon. So you just brush your lips against hers as your fingers do the same with the wisps of hair in the back of her neck. You hold her lower lip between yours, applying a little pressure, and you have to hold yourself back for your tongue not to taste the flesh trapped by your lips. You brush your nose against hers as you go for her upper lip and she exhales heavily. Her reaction makes you reconsider as you simply touch your lower lip to her upper one, feeling their moisture hold them together a fraction longer than intended. “You okay in there?”

“Yea, I… yea. Super.”

 _Jesus_ , she makes you smile so hard. “How did that feel?”

She clears her throat. “Soft. Warm. Like… It felt like you care about me.”

You don’t think you will ever stop smiling. “I do care about you.”

She moves into you, eyes focused on your smile. “Can we do that again?”

Your answer, _we can do that for the rest of our lives_ , has her smiling. “Still believe you’re gonna marry me one day, Sawyer?”

“I’m sure now more than ever.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alex took the whole gay thing in stride. She was a little nervous about talking to her sister – though you have no idea why, the girl is as dedicated to Alex as Alex is to her –, but, after a few stuttered words, everything was well.

You’ve been taking things slow, you kiss her and you touch her waist and you hold her hand, and almost every new physical aspect of your relationship has been initiated by Alex. She was the one who licked your lower lip on the very same night of your first kiss, and she was the one who, two nights later, met your tongue with her own when you were only intending to taste her lips. She was the one, almost a week after that, who held your waist under your shirt and then lightly traced your ribs.

And you think that maybe you both are starting to go too fast as, two weeks after your first kiss, she straddles your lap and kisses your neck and you’re having a hard time keeping your hips still, but she doesn’t seem that concerned with your rhythm. She admits that she is nervous about a few things, but you’ve been seeing each other almost every day (to be fair, you’d been seeing each other almost every day even before the kissing started) and she feels comfortable with you. _That helps_ , she says. _You make me nervous, but you also calm me down._

So it is a month into your relationship and she is in your lap again, kissing you again, and you have one hand under her shirt but on top of her bra (that’s not a first either) and the other squeezing her ass and the back of her thighs when she starts to grind against your hips. And _that’_ s a first. She rocks her hips against yours and you encourage her movements by grabbing her ass tighter and pressing her core into you. She gasps into your mouth and you can feel her frustration because you’re both wearing jeans, and it makes it harder for her, but it also kind of makes it better. You can see in her expression that she is getting off not despite, but because of the obstacles your clothes have become (you remember that feeling from your teenage years). Her left arm wraps itself around your lower back and her hand grabs your shirt from the inside, twisting it to give her something to hold on to and anchor her rocking.

You don’t even know if she can come like that, but her gasps into your mouth as she tries to kiss you suggest that she can, and that she might be seconds away from just that. And you’ve had other girls grinding into you before, yet it’s never made your sex clench in on itself quite so desperately as it is right now. Every roll of her hips into yours makes you grip for her, and it would be embarrassing, but you think you might come before she does.

She starts to lose the rhythm she had established, her movements more rushed and jerky as the hand on your back almost rips your shirt. And she’s mostly been silent, but a couple of low grunts escape her throat right before the first waves of her orgasm hit her. Her eyes lose focus and her mouth falls open, and it all makes you want to be inside her, to feel her pulsing around you and pulling you in. The thought of it almost makes you come as you help her ride the feeling, guiding her hips and gradually slowing her down until she lies boneless against you, her breathing heavy and wet against your neck.

She kisses your pulse, thrumming in your neck, lazily, running her tongue heavily over it and then sucking the skin into her mouth. The feeling runs straight to your core, making your hips jump into her weight. She hums and disentangles herself from you just enough to search into your eyes.

She frowns and, even though she’s already pretty flushed, a new rush of pink flows into her cheeks.

“God, Maggie, I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted to-”

“Oh I wanted to, in fact…” you smile and clean your throat, “I might still want to?” Your voice raises and cracks by the end of the sentence and you blush. Just because she got carried away before doesn't mean that she'd be comfortable touching you or actively trying to make you come.

But Alex smiles and lets her gaze rest between your thighs, “I imagined that might be the case.” Her hands play with the button of your jeans and she looks at you, asking for permission. You breathe out a _yea_ and she slides the button out of its case, standing to help you take the whole thing off.

Wearing only your panties and your crinkled shirt, you sit back down, taking Alex’s hand to guide her into your lap again.

Her voice is still a little rough when she speaks next, and it makes the fine hair on your arms raise in attention. “What do you want?”

And you kind of want everything, but she’s never done this before and you don’t want her to overthink it, to focus on how many fingers, on what’s the right angle or the right rhythm. You just want _her_. So you lie down on the couch and you guide her on top of you, adjusting her right thigh between your legs. “Is this okay?” You ask as you encourage her to press her thigh into you.

She drinks you in, breathless as she nods, “very okay.”

Her reaction makes you think that she might like having you lying under her.

The idea of Alex becoming more confident and _dominant_ as your relationship progresses makes you clench around thin air, grinding your sex on her thigh. You thrust your hips into her, finding your rhythm, and the pressure helps, but it’s not enough. The friction isn’t right and you’re so turned on that you only realize what you’re doing a second too late, when you see your hand heading between your legs to get your underwear out of the way. You manage to stop yourself, but she’s noticed the movement.

“What do you need?” She asks, her fingers already pressing lightly on your clit, over your underwear, assuming that that’s what you were going for.

And it feels good, _god_ , does it feel good, but you’re a little overwhelmed and instead of letting yourself enjoy what she’s doing to you, you try to explain that that’s not what you were going to do.

“No, that’s not… It doesn’t matter, your jeans.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you try to explain even though language is a tough skill to pull off right now, “ruin your pants.”

That’s enough for her to understand. She hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side. You’re about to repeat that it will get her all dirty, but the friction is too good, so you just hold her closer and let your hips seek your release.

It doesn’t take long, you were already holding yourself off before she came. Your hips lock into her as your whole body goes rigid. Alex imitates what you did for her and tries to help you, rubbing her thigh against you, but you’re too sensitive and her jeans are too rough, so your hands, which were on her ass and on the back of her thigh, bringing her to you, move to her hips to stop her. “Too much, baby, too much,” you breathe into her cheek and kiss it at the same time. She stills every movement and you bring her thigh into you again, just a comforting pressure, “like that.”

Alex’s weight is full on top of you. You feel warm all over and wet all over and you’re sure you look like a mess, but she’s looking at you like you’re a freaking masterpiece, running the tips of her fingers over your neck, your breasts, still hidden by your shirt, your arms, your belly and lower, stopping to feel the soft hair that covers your sex. She kisses your chin and nibbles your jaw and she’s tracing her path to your ear and _dear god_ , you’re not strong enough for this.

“Can I touch you here?” She asks, scratching her short nails on the hair that is not hidden by your displaced panties.

“I don’t think I can go again.”

She moves even more into you – you didn’t think it was possible, she was so close already – resting her forehead on your cheek. “That’s okay, we don’t have to go again. I just… Can I just touch you?”

And what is this ability she has to produce constant warmth in your chest?

You breathe in and let your hand cover hers and guide it between your legs. “Yeah,” you give her permission to explore. She touches you with no intent, she’s not trying to work you up, just mapping you out, and you thought that your chest felt full before, but the filling just doesn’t stop. You watch her watch you and it takes her a moment to realize she’s being observed. When she finally meets your eyes, hers are so full of wonder and you can’t believe that what she’s amazed about is you.

So you smile and she smiles, and you thought that the words were only in your head, but they fall from your mouth unrestrained. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first smut writing in over ten years, I think. Definitely the first one in English, so I might have made some weird choices word-wise. You can point that out to me (preferably suggesting a word that fits the situation better), I won't be offended.
> 
> This scene went on a little bit longer than intended. This chapter was supposed to have 2 or 3 scenes, concluding the prompt, but, alas, that's not how things worked out. So, there should be one more chapter to finish this story, maybe two if the next scene (that I haven't thought about yet) ends up being too closed in itself (like the one in this update) to share the chapter with the final scene.


	3. Chapter 3

_November, 2014._

You had a fight.

You had a fight and Alex went out. She took her car keys, put on her heels and left you in her apartment and you’re worried.

At first you were… well, not calm, you were pretty much angry, but you figured she would drive for a bit, maybe go to her sister, vent a little and come back. You gave her an hour, an hour and then you’d call her. It is a weekday and she shouldn’t be out too late.

You call her when she doesn’t show up, but she doesn’t pick up. You give her 15 minutes before calling again. Then 10. Then 5. You start getting her inbox message. She’s turned her phone off.

You thought she was just going to drive around for a bit, but then you remembered that she liked to drink when she was upset. _Only…_ Only she’d taken her car keys. You know Alex, she’s dating a cop, she wouldn’t drink and drive. _Would she?_

You didn’t actually get to see Alex’s bad phase, but Kara has told you about it. Not intentionally, no. She was just trying to be sweet, saying how much you’re good for her sister, how, when you two met, she was having some trouble – out too often, hungover too often, grades falling and telephone fights with her mother (though that hasn’t changed much). You didn’t see all that, but after not being able to contact her for 2h, you are getting worried.

She drinks when she’s upset, less than she used to, according to Kara, but she does. So maybe she’s at the bar where you two meet every now and then. But with her car? She got her car keys and her heels and- Heels. Maybe she went out dancing.

But she _is_ upset, so maybe she is drunk _and_ dancing.

You remember when you first met her, all loose from a few too many drinks, dancing and flirting, and with half the party lusting after her.

Was she drunk enough to be flirty right now? To dance and flirt with some random girl whom she isn’t mad at?

 _God_ , it’s been too long. You’re already writing a shitty novel in your head based on the single fact that you don’t know where she is.

You don’t want to feel like this, Alex never gave you reason to feel like this, but she took her car keys and she put on her heels and she took off three hours ago.

That’s how long you’ve been at her place waiting for her to come home, and that’s more than enough time for your anger to dissolve and worry (and nightmarish fantasies) to creep in. You can feel your heartbeat as if it were from a hummingbird; it beats so fast.

You thought about calling Kara, but you’re afraid of having to tell her that you fought, of having to tell her that you don’t know where her sister is, that she might be drunk and she has her car – you’re afraid of worrying her when it might all be in your head, or when it might all be true and you shouldn’t have waited so long to call her. Why don’t you call her? _Just freaking call her!_

Your phone rings and you almost drop it in your haste to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Maggie Sawyer?”

The whole world slows down.

“That’s me.” Your voice sounds as if it were underwater.

“This is Officer-,” you can’t hear him, it’s just noise, “from the-” _what is he saying?_ “precinct. We have Alexandra Danvers” Alexandra Danvers, _Alex Danvers_ “under custody, you were her phone call.”

The world starts spinning so fast you have to sit down. “Alex? She’s al- she was arrested?”

“Yes, ma’am. DUI, but she was brought in before she actually got behind the wheel. Are you coming for her? She will be released tomorrow if no one comes to get her tonight.”

“Yea, I- Yes, I’ll be there, what precinct is this again?”

“13th, ma’am. Have a good night.” The line goes dead but you still have the phone glued to your ear. Suddenly your lungs expand. You feel like you can finally breathe for the first time in over three hours.

_A freaking DUI, Alex!_

You put on your jacket and get the keys to your Triumph (you’ll have to leave it there and call a cab to drive you both home, there’s no way you’re driving a drunk Danvers on a bike) before heading to bail your girlfriend out of jail. At least it’s not your own precinct.

 

* * *

  

You’re there to pick her up and this freaking newbie officer (who probably has been wearing a badge for longer than you have, but that’s not the point) is telling you that your girlfriend is not here.

“You guys called me to pick her up, what do you mean ‘she’s not here?’”

“She was already signed out by,” he reads his files, “Hank Henshaw.”

You slap your right hand on the files on his table and turn them towards yourself to try to understand _what the fuck is going on?_

“Ma’am!”

“Listen, pal, you lost my girlfriend, the least you can do is let me read the freaking papers that signed her off.”

“I didn’t lose her-”

“Do I look like I care about semantics?” You take a breath and read the files. Hank Henshaw. _Who is this?_

You try Alex’s phone, but it doesn’t even give you signal anymore.

Maybe Kara will know what is going on. About time you called her anyway.

  

* * *

 

Kara sent you to wait for Alex at her place while she looks for her in the library and in your favorite bar. You’re going crazy just sitting and waiting, but you know someone has to be here in case she comes home. You’re still trying her phone every 30 seconds, but _there’s no damn signal_. You had thought, when you ended the call with the precinct, that you were done worrying for today. _If this thoughtless piece of shit is fine when she gets home, I’m going to fucking murder her._

You try her phone again. Nothing. Count to 10. Try it again.

“Hey, Maggie!”

“Alex!” Her voice, it’s her. “Where are you? Are you okay? Wh-”

“Yes, I’m fine, I- You won’t believe the night I had! I met-” She sounds excited; your heart has been squeezed into the size of a green grape and she’s been having not enough of a bad time, apparently.

“You’re ‘fine’? _Are you kidding me?_ I’ve been worried sick for over five hours, Alex. I got Kara running all over the city looking for you. Where the hell are you?”

“I-,” she falters, realization, it seems, finally hitting her. “I’m coming home, I’ll be there in ten minutes, I promise. I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“Yea, I know you didn’t. You're on your way?" You check, just to be sure.

"I'm on my way."

"Good. Call your sister, she’s probably in worse shape than I am.”

“Okay, I’ll call her. I’m really sorry, Maggie.”

“Just… just come home.”

“I’ll be right there,” she breathes into the phone, and you should hung up now, but you’ve been so worried about her, looking for her without being able to reach her, that you don’t think you’ll be able to disconnect before having her in front of you. It’s stupid, but you’re a little afraid that she will disappear again.

“Stay on the line? I mean, you’re not the one driving, right?”

“I’m not the one driving, I got a cab.”

“Okay, then don’t-”

“I won’t.”

“Okay, okay.” You both breathe into the phone.

“I can’t call Kara if I don’t hung up, though,” she teases you.

You laugh and _Jesus Christ_ , are you crying from relief alone? “I’ll put you on speaker and send her a message, stay here.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

Kara gets there before Alex does. You don’t know how she does it, but she’s there a couple of minutes before Alex enters the door. Kara is on her immediately, enveloping her in a crushing hug as she gives her a stern talk and says how worried she was and _thank Rao_ that she is okay (you’re used to Kara’s weird expressions by now), all at the same time.

And then Alex is looking at you, her smile shy and guilty. “Hey.”

“What the hell, Alex?” You’re frustrated and angry, not because of the fight, you don’t even remember what that was about, but because she’s put you and her sister through a few hell hours when she could have avoided it all with a phone call.

Her face falls when she hears the tone of your voice, her own voice sounding very small, “Maggie…”

“Do you have any idea how worried we were? You disappeared,” your voice cracks, _oh god, no_ , “we couldn’t reach your phone. You didn’t call us,” you stop to run your wrist under your eyes and clean away the tears. “You were arrested and then you weren’t there anymore.”

She steps towards you and you’re so upset that you take a step of your own away from her.

Her arms hang low and open to you and her eyes are starting to shine with held back tears, “please, Maggie, let me hold you.”

You let her come into your space, let her cradle your cheeks and press a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, that I worried you.” She wraps her arms around you and you finally let yourself go. You cling to her and burry your nose in her neck and let her hold you, shush you, tell you that she’s okay, you’re both okay, _everything is okay, Maggie._

You calm down soon after that, her smell, her skin, her lips on your temple have the ability to put you back together quite easily.

 

You’re all tired, but you and Kara want to know what happened, who the man who bailed her out is. And so Alex sits you both down and tells you how she met a friend of her father’s who has a lab he wants her to work for. She says that he showed her the place and she sounds so excited to start it all, but you wonder, quietly, about her leaving the police station with a man she had seen a single time ten years ago.

It’s almost morning when she finishes her story. Kara takes the couch for the couple hours of sleep she still has before having to head to the University and you and Alex head to bed.

 

You’re spooning her, your nose brushing the back of her neck, breathing her in. You want to sleep, but you’re still too wired for that.

“Where were you? Before the police station. Where did you go when you left here?”

She places her arm over your own that is encircling her waist, threading her fingers with yours and pulling you closer. “I went to a club. I was angry. I know I shouldn’t drink when I’m like that, but I wanted to. To, you know, uncoil that… that feeling that there is a ball of anger right here,” she places both of your hands between her breasts.

You kiss the space between her shoulder and neck, “I know.”

“I drank and I tried to dance a little, but… I don’t know, I used to be able to go alone to a party and just, you know, dance? But it didn’t seem that fun anymore, I’m used to dancing with you now.”

“Yea?” The shit eating grin that you have plastered on is very obvious in your voice.

She laughs quietly, turning to you. “Yea. Why? Don’t want me to have fun without you?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I was worried when you left. First I was worried about you drinking and taking your car, which, you know, I was right about.”

“To be fair I was going to get my cellphone, which I’d forgotten in my car, to call a cab.”

You breathe a little easier, “promise?”

“Of course. I’m dating a cop. Drinking and driving is a no-no.”

You bump your nose with hers and peck her lips, “good.”

She hums and studies you. “You said that ‘first’ you were worried about that, what were you worried about later?”

“It’s stupid,” you try to deflect. 

“Yea? That’s okay, I’m sure it won’t beat how stupid I was today.”

You laugh as you kind of agree with her, “it just might.”

She runs her fingers through you hair and asks, “tell me anyway.”

You swallow and you’re a little nervous because it _is_ stupid, but you also feel like you have to take it off your chest.

“It’s just that, the longer it took for you to come home, the longer I kept, you know, hallucinating that you were going to party and you were going to drink a little too much and dance... And you get a little flirty when you’re like that, only I’m, you know, usually I’m there and you flirt with me,” your heart is racing at how exposed you feel saying these things, and you want to measure your words because you don’t want to offend her, even though you might have already done that. “It’s stupid, but I was worried that you were angry enough to flirt back if a girl hit on you- It’s stupid, I’m sorry, I know it is.”

She’s studying you, and for a second there it does seem like she’s not happy about what you said. “You were never the jealous type before.”

“I know. I’m not, it’s just that today we…”

“Today,” she whispers, “we had a fight and I disappeared on you for 5 hours. I worried you.” She looks at you, her expression so understanding it makes your heart squeeze itself a little bit.

“You did.”

“You thought I’d pull a Ross on you and think that the fight was us breaking up?”

You chuckle and bring her hips closer to you, “something like that.”

She plays with your hair again, a soft smile making its way onto her lips as she looks at you. “Maggie, it doesn’t matter how many fights we have or how serious they are, you don’t ever have to worry about me hooking up with someone else. You’re going to marry me one day, right? I’d never jeopardize that.”

That brings a laugh and a few tears out of you, “I sure am, Danvers.” _I sure am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but I had to change it a little bit after monday's episode. I don't know if you can tell, but I know nothing of police procedures, despite my 17 years of Law & Order SVU, and I'm too lazy to actually research it. I guess my advice is: just ignore reality and go with it.
> 
> One chapter left to go!


	4. Chapter 4

_March, 2017._

You’ve been with Alex for over three years. It’s not your longest relationship – you dated the same woman, or girl, you suppose, you were girls back then, for five years –, but it is the most mature.

You first started dating Emily when you were 17. You’d finished high school early and you’d just moved to National City when you met her. You didn’t think, back then, that that was how things were going to work out. You thought that, being new to the big city, you were going to party a lot, or go to different bars and kiss different girls until you met someone who clicked with you. But you met Emily in your first month in the new city, and you did click.

That was what you needed back then, you need to have someone who was yours. Your parents weren’t yours anymore, your aunt… She was good for you and she took care of you because you were family, but somehow that didn’t make her yours either, or you hers. So, for five years, you had someone in Emily, and you loved her, but that didn’t change that you were still immature, still wondering what was out there, what you could have experienced if you hadn’t lived your teenage years in Blue Springs, Nebraska.

You later found out that what the world had to offer you wasn’t even remotely close to what you had with Emily, with someone who knew you and stood by you for five years, but, now, you figure that that was an experience that you had to live. Sometimes we have to do dumb things to really learn something.

You regret hurting Emily, but you don’t regret ending your relationship. You were both young, and sometimes that works for people, but it wouldn’t have worked for you. You were, what, 21? 22? You wanted to have someone, but you weren’t really looking for a future, not relationship-wise at least. Now you don’t even know how you two lasted 5 years when you weren’t looking in the same direction.

You were comfortable and good and you loved each other, you just didn’t know what you wanted to come from that.

So, now, as you look at the engagement ring – it is a simple piece of jewelry, Alex works in the field, like you, and you figure that she probably can’t even wear it when she is at the DEO, but still, you don’t think she’d appreciate a ring that gets stuck in her hair or in her clothes or in someone’s eye as she punches them (you’re not sure about the last one, though), so you went for a simple band with a very small rock that fits into it, the whole ring smooth to the touch. But you’ve digressed: as you look at the ring, you figure that no, this isn’t your longest relationship, but it is the most mature – you love Alex and you feel comfortable with her and all those things you used to feel with Emily; but with Alex you know that you want forever. You know it’s not making each other company until life makes you part. You and Alex have a future together.

You were joking all those years ago when you came up to Kara and said that you were going to marry her sister; at least you think you were. But it’s been becoming truer and truer over the last few years, and you figure it’s time.

You hid the ring from Alex, but you don’t know how much of a surprise it will be, you’ve been warning her about it the whole time, after all.

You’re not even too nervous about her saying no. _She would have said something if the marriage jokes bothered her, right?_ So, yea, a little nervous, but not as much as you might be if your relationship hadn’t developed the way it did.

You remember when Alex first started working at the DEO, and you thought it was just a lab. She told you it was just a lab. And then she started coming home with all kinds of bruises, started having to spend days and even a full week out of town for “conferences”. You remember how worried you were until she came clean.

You had to threaten to go to her sister for Alex to give in and tell you, well, not the truth, but she at least admitted that she wasn’t working for a lab, not a common lab, and that she was trying to get permission to tell you everything. From that you were able to at least figure out that she was some kind of secret service agent.

You still worried about her, about the bruises and new muscles that indicated she was getting prepared to face some scary situations, but at least you knew. And it wasn’t as if you could blame her for that, for doing something dangerous; you had been trained for, roughly, the same thing: to risk your life to protect others.

You were understanding then, and you like to think that you still are, but the beginning was when Alex had needed that from you the most. You were her first woman, her first serious relationship, the first person to take some of her attention off her sister. And you loved guiding her through it. But then Alex started to lead the way; she took you by the hand (figuratively and literally as well) and she helped you open up and she gave you time to do it. _It’s okay if you don’t want or can’t talk about it yet. If you tell me that you’re not ready, I’ll respect that. I’ll wait. Just don’t lie to me._

You take a last look at the ring and you put it away in your bedside table. Alex will be home soon and, as much as you have told her from the start that you wanted to marry her, you still hope to surprise her at least a little bit.

   

* * *

 

Alex is home and you’re both cooking and the anxiety that you thought you wouldn’t get is almost making you puke on what’s to become your dinner. You eat little when the table is set and you hardly pay any attention to what’s on TV when the two of you move to the couch.

Alex notices it, of course, you’ve been quiet and shivery and cool to the touch the entire evening, but she waits until you’re both heading to bed to question you - always so patient when she knows you need to talk.

“What is wrong, Maggie? You’ve been anxious since I got home.”

“It’s nothing,” you answer her, laying down and facing away from her, your hand itching to open the drawer and hold the ring again.

She breathes in and says your name softly. You’ve been through this so many times that you wonder why you still try to deflect her.

“I’m not ready yet. I might be ready still tonight, but not yet.”

She is leaning against her left elbow and watching your face as her body curls around yours. Her eyes are so focused on studying what might be going on in your head that she doesn’t notice or doesn’t give importance to whatever you might be getting from your drawer.

You lay on your back once the ring is safe within your fist and take a deep breath as you let her watch you, her right hand warm on your stomach.

“That’s okay, Maggie, if you can’t say it now. But I feel my heart get a little bit smaller when I see you so nervous. Whatever it is, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay.” That’s all you want: for her to be here always. You smile up at her and you kind of decide to bite the bullet, but you kind of backtrack at the same time. “You’re going to marry me one day, right?”

_Shit._

You end up with this half proposal not too different from all the other times when you were convinced of your future with her, except that now it is a question. Kind of.

Alex smiles back at you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear as she answers, “of course. This thing has you so nervous that you have to ask me that?”

And you’ve been nervous the whole day, but only now do the tears shine in your eyes. Because you half asked. And she half answered. And you don’t think that that counts.

So your hand, holding and hiding the ring, reaches for her hand that is back to caressing your lower belly in an attempt to calm you down. You relax your fingers as you let them intertwine with hers and you press your palm, and the ring, against her own.

She looks down at your hands, feeling something press against her skin, and searches into your eyes again. Still worried, still understanding of you, but not yet understanding that whatever is hidden between your hands is important.

You put a little pressure on her fingers and hold her gaze. “No, Alex. What I mean is _Will you marry me?_ ” You look down at your hands again and part your palm from hers, keeping your fingers connected, but showing her the ring.

And for someone who’s been warned of your intentions since the first day you two met, she seems pretty speechless. Breathless. _Breathtaking,_ you think as you watch her eyes glisten and her hand be brought closer to her chest, ring safe in it.

“ _Oh_ ,” she says and finally breathes again. She smiles and looks at the ring and back at you and her smile becomes so big it forces the tears from her eyes. “You were scared of asking me something I’ve been saying yes to for three years?”

You chuckle and cry and you want to explain that _did all those times count?_ But you decide to be simple. “Yes, yes I was- _Am_ ,” you correct yourself. “You haven’t answered yet, not this time.”

Alex puts the ring on her finger, her eyes crinkled as if her answer is a mystery to you even though she’s wearing the ring. _She’s wearing the ring!_ She cradles your face and presses her lips to yours (and you taste her tears – your tears? – on her tongue) and finally answers you, with so much joy in her eyes that you forget to breathe for a second, “yes, Maggie, I will marry you.”

You giggle as you roll your body on top of hers and press your lips to her ring finger; your heart, your lungs, your whole chest has never felt so big and so full and yet so light in your entire life.

_I knew I would marry this girl one day._

_One day soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again. This is the last one, not as fluffy as I'd hoped for it to be, but I keep rereading it and not finding a clear spot to fit more kisses and brushes of hands and fingers in hair. So I guess this is it.
> 
> Sorry about the comparison in the beginning between Maggie's relationship with Emily and with Alex, it's not something that I agree with, but the point was to show that Maggie had grown and that what happened between her and Emily might have been due to immaturity or to timing or to them not being right for each other or a combination of all three. I hope that that was the impression you guys got, otherwise I did my job poorly.
> 
> Almost a whole month to go before we see Maggie again, guys, stay strong.


End file.
